Steve's Barber Shop

Shop will be closed Tuesday, July 28th through Saturday, August 1st.
Opening regular business hours Tuesday, August 4th.

Due to road construction on North Main Street and Elizabeth Street, shop will be closed on Tuesday, May 26th. I’ll be open Wednesday through Saturday. Thank you for your patience and understanding. Steve 💈

I’m waiting for the city to remove snow/ice from sidewalks, so access can be made to the barber shop. Once this happens I’ll be able to open. Looks like Friday morning. Shop entrance is on Elizabeth Street. Parking is available across from my shop entrance. Owner of the red building said it is open for my customers at anytime. Hopefully this is the last storm for a long time. Thanks for your attention to this matter. Steve 💈

This blizzard has been brutal. Still trying to dig out and it’s not easy. Shop will be closed Wednesday. Hopefully I’ll be able to open Thursday morning. I’ll try and keep you all updated. Thanks for your understanding and patience. Steve

Barber shop will be closed Tuesday, February 24th due to the snowstorm that has been predicted for Sunday into Monday.

Shop will be closed Tuesday, January 27th. Thank you Steve

By the time the San Francisco 49ers called Dwight Clark’s name in the 1979 NFL Draft, there was more confusion than celebration inside the room. Tenth round. First pick of it, sure—but 249th overall. The kind of selection teams make when the phones have gone quiet and the board feels thin. Some people in the organization didn’t even think Clark would be drafted at all. To them, he looked like an undrafted free agent waiting to happen. A long shot. A footnote.

Funny how history loves to begin that way.

The truth is, Clark almost slipped through the cracks entirely. Bill Walsh wasn’t even in Clemson to see him. The new head coach had traveled there to scout quarterback Steve Fuller—Clark’s roommate. That’s it. That was the plan. But football, like life, has a way of pivoting on small, accidental moments. When the 49ers arrived on campus, Clark happened to answer the phone as he was heading out the door for a round of golf. One conversation led to another. Someone asked if he’d stick around and catch passes for Fuller during the workout. Why not?

Walsh watched. He noticed the way Clark moved, how the ball seemed to belong in his hands, how routes didn’t end so much as they arrived. There was something there—something quiet but undeniable. By the time the day ended, Clark wasn’t just Fuller’s roommate anymore. He was on Walsh’s radar.

When Clark joined the 49ers, he didn’t step into a winner. He stepped into a mess. San Francisco was coming off a brutal 2–14 season in 1978 and followed it up with the exact same record in 1979. Candlestick Park wasn’t shaking with belief; it was echoing with frustration. Wins were rare. Hope even rarer.

And yet, almost imperceptibly at first, things began to change.

By 1981, the air felt different. Sharper. More intentional. Walsh’s system was taking root. Joe Montana was finding his rhythm. And Clark—once doubted, once nearly invisible—was becoming essential. That season ended with a Super Bowl victory. So did the 1984 season. From 1981 onward, the 49ers made the playoffs every year Clark wore their uniform, except for the strike-shortened 1982 season. A franchise that had been lost found itself standing at the center of the football world.

Clark wasn’t flashy in the way some stars are, but he was relentless. Dependable. Precise. Over nine seasons with the 49ers, he caught 506 passes for 6,750 yards and 48 touchdowns. He even chipped in a bit on the ground, though that was never his calling card. In 1982, a season fractured by a strike, he led the entire NFL with 60 receptions. He made the Pro Bowl twice. Sports Illustrated’s Paul Zimmerman named him Player of the Year that same season—a nod not just to numbers, but to impact.

Still, if you say Dwight Clark’s name, one moment rises above all others.

January 10, 1982. The NFC Championship Game. San Francisco versus Dallas. The Cowboys—football royalty at the time—led 27–21. Less than a minute remained. Candlestick was loud, but it was the sound of nerves, not confidence. Third-and-3. The season hanging by a thread.

Montana rolled right, chased by blue jerseys. The end zone loomed, crowded and unforgiving. Clark broke toward the back line, jumped, stretched—higher than he ever had before—and pulled the ball down with fingertips and faith. A six-yard pass. A heartbeat frozen in midair.

Steve’s Barber Shop Open Tuesday - Thursday 8:30am - 5:00pm / Friday 8:30am - 4:30pm / Saturday 7:30am - 12:30pm. WALK-INS ONLY. (Please share) Thank you